novelraw Chapter 107 : Chapter 107
Chapter 107 : Chapter 107
Chapter 107: The Lost Library (3)
The cells that make up the body are constantly being replaced.
It was a natural physiology. While countless cells fall away, countless other cells are formed, and the body is maintained. The shell of a living being was thus stained with death and birth. Unstably, barely.
Memory was no different. Memory is completed through numerous forgettings. The memories that are cherished become precious because forgotten memories exist. Sometimes, even memories that shouldn't be discarded will fade away, but,
There was no need to be sad.
For they have gone to the side of the God of Oblivion ‘Fichte’.
“Everyone is welcome.”
Clap, it went.
Penelope clapped her hands.
“This is the reading room of the Lost Library.”
Monika's eyes widened.
All sides were transparent. Transparent walls enclosed the square space.
It's confusing. That was the only impression that welled up. Her knowledge of architecture was nonexistent, but it didn't seem to conform to any architectural style that existed in Epezeria. Since the Lost Library was a place that existed outside the world.
‘It’s hard to breathe.’
Monika hugged her shopping basket. As if squeezing her chest.
She bowed her head and looked down. She stared at the circular corridors of the library that continued endlessly downward. It was the point where they had arrived through Penelope's magic circle.
Meanwhile, when she looked up,
‘The sea.’
And bubbles.
An underwater world stained with bubbles was revealed.
Colorful bubbles filled the water. Some swelled into human shapes, and sometimes they swelled into the shape of the sun. Like insects, like stones, or like a mixture of humans and elves and dwarves and orcs and trolls. Such bubbles were being generated one after another in the water.
How should she describe it? Monika thought quietly. The Lost Library was under the water, and it existed above the ground. It was confusing whether to say it was under the sea or on the land.
“That is the God of Oblivion.”
Suddenly, Abel opened his mouth.
While wiping the blade of his beloved sword with his collar.
“What you are looking at is the body of the God of Oblivion.”
“……You mean the bubbles?”
“I was referring to the sea.”
The God of Oblivion ‘Fichte’ was an infinitely expanding sea,
And it had no definite form. For the shape of water changed depending on where it was contained.
It was just symbolic. The infinite sea symbolized the depth of memory, the abundant bubbles the principle of creation and extinction, and the deep underground the mire of oblivion. Therefore, the Lost Library was merely ‘Fichte’s’ chamber, built between memory and oblivion.
Abel recited these facts.
“You must have understood by now. We will begin training now.”
“Training?”
Monika's eyes widened.
“No, I didn't understand it all. And by the way, are you okay, Sensei? Right now, I……”
My breath……,
I’m out of breath……, she said.
Monika said, placing a hand on her chest.
“……I feel like I’m going to die?”
“You will.”
Abel nodded once, and then,
“But it's fine. You're far from dying.”
He explained the situation in a calm tone.
For now, only her breathing would be difficult. Soon her whole body would start to bruise, and then her skin would become necrotic. Her bones would melt. Her internal organs would rot. And she would die. For a mortal body could not endure the domain of a main god.
“Are you a little relieved now?”
Abel wore a faint smile.
“You have just entered the first stage.”
“I’m not relieved at all. To the point where I want to kick you in the shin, Sensei. What kind of training are we supposed to do in this situation?”
“Endure it.”
The content of the training was simple.
To just stand still and endure in the domain of a main god. It was a necessary process for Monika. Soon she would set foot in the domains of other main gods, and the moment when she would have to face the main gods directly was also approaching.
“Be prepared for your body to bruise. We'll be back before your skin becomes necrotic.”
Abel whispered so and then moved on.
It would have been better if you just let me study for the exam! Monika shouted, panting for breath, but he ignored her. He stopped beside Penelope and sharpened his gaze.
“I will enter the archive alone. Lady Penelope, please take care of Monika.”
“Wouldn't it be nice to have a family outing?”
Penelope shrugged her shoulders.
“Father and mother, and daughter. The three of us together.”
“We are not a family.”
“We're becoming one.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I'll decide that.”
But I'll respect it, she said.
Penelope muttered, brushing back her golden hair.
Entering the archive with a child in tow would be a concern. In the first place, she herself would also be a burden to Abel. She was just an evangelist of the God of Oblivion; Penelope's knowledge of divine magic was shallow. More a songstress than a cleric. That was Penelope's identity.
“Mr. Abel Argento, listen carefully.”
Penelope bent down.
She extended her index finger and swept it across the floor.
“To reach the correct archive, you must solidify the memory.”
A magic circle was created following Penelope's hand gesture.
Bubbles filled the circular border. It was a symbol that represented the internal organs of the God of Oblivion, and a system that symbolized the number of archives. The God of Oblivion had as many internal organs as there were bubbles, and the number of archives that made up the Lost Library was also the same. It was impossible to count them.
“Think of the leaders of the Parousia Denomination. You must not have any other thoughts.”
Penelope took a step back and gestured.
Towards the center of the magic circle.
“So that the doors of the archives can respond.”
“I know.”
Abel took a step.
He stood on the magic circle.
“Be careful. The doors of the archives are nasty, and even if you pass through the door, a guard will be waiting for you.”
“I know that as well.”
“You do?”
Penelope crossed her arms.
She opened her mouth with a playful smile.
“Then that's a relief. I don't want to become a widow.”
“Lady Penelope Polastiras.”
Abel let out a sigh.
“I will say it again. I only needed a false identity. I do not wish for a true marriage. I had a woman with whom I shared affection, and although she has passed away……”
Guuung──, it went.
The magic circle began to glow.
Black bubbles surrounded Abel.
Abel closed his eyes gently and continued to speak.
“She will not be forgotten.”
As he whispered so,
He put strength into the hilt of his beloved sword.
An endless fall was waiting for Abel.
* * *
A tedious sense of floating enveloped Abel.
He was falling down. In the center of the spiral-shaped corridor, Abel opened his eyes in the midst of a pit whose bottom he could not fathom.
It was a familiar process for Abel.
He had plenty of experience using the Lost Library. He also knew the source of the voices echoing in his ears. The sentient doors of the archives. The doors that had responded to the knowledge Abel sought were whispering incessantly.
The corridors of the library were made of numerous bookshelves,
And at the same time, they were doors. The entrances to the archives, classified by purpose, were lined up.
Abel recalled the leaders of the Parousia Denomination.
The five cardinals who had reigned in a distant era. The powerful warlocks whose identities even the current Pope did not know. The apostates who, after looking up to the Pantheon for a long time, desired to become new gods themselves.
Who are they.
What is the reason that no records remain.
Abel extended the thread of memory.
He tried to find a connection between the Parousia Denomination and the Vianchiel Kingdom.
How could they use the steel of a kingdom that had already fallen? Now that the information left by Fleur had not been fully deciphered, it was highly likely that the former territory of the Vianchiel Kingdom was the very origin of the Parousia Denomination.
The cardinals were the manpower of the empire,
And the Vianchiel Kingdom was the birthplace of magic.
What was the connection between magic and faith.
It was too early to give a definite answer.
But he could predict. The reason the cardinals who formed the Parousia Denomination were not recorded was──,
Because history had forgotten them.
That it was related to an era erased from history.
The door of the archive opened.
Abel's vision darkened,
And a forgotten history unfolded before his eyes.
<──The filthiest joke.>
.
.
.
‘This place is…….’
Abel, standing on the ground, looked around.
A plaza. A plaza from a distant era unfolded before his eyes.
Still, it was inside a book. His soul had just been engraved in a book where the information Abel needed was recorded. In other words, he had reached the middle of a history that had already been completed.
‘Why is it so peaceful?’
The scenery that surrounded Abel was unfamiliar.
But it was familiar. It was unfamiliar because the buildings he had always seen in their old state were pristine, and yet it was familiar because there were few changes.
The capital Naflansee of the distant past. Abel easily identified the identity of the place he had arrived at.
‘There should be a guard.’
To obtain forgotten information, one had to face a guard.
Forgotten time must remain forgotten. Reviving forgotten facts was an act that went against providence, and the guards had confronted the creatures that had reached inside the books to prevent this. With an amorphous appearance, buried in their murderous intent towards creation.
‘Could it be…….’
But there were only subjects.
Only subjects dressed in old-fashioned attire were lined up. A certain boy was in the middle of shining an old man's shoes, and women dressed up to the nines were strolling through the plaza. While he could see a man spitting a large glob of phlegm, two gentlemen were also playing chess with umbrellas in their hands.
‘……Are they the guards.’
Silence.
The bustling plaza became quiet.
The boy who had been shining shoes stood up straight. The expression of the old man who was about to pay the fee was contorted. The women who had been strolling through the plaza stood facing Abel, and the expression of the man who had spat phlegm hardened coldly. The two gentlemen who had been playing chess folded their umbrellas and held their breath, and,
“──You cannot see it.”
Everyone said in unison.
Looking at Abel, in a heavy tone.
“Do not peek at our history.”
Forget. Forget.
Do not try to know us.
“Be forgotten along with us.”
And so, die.
In a history that no one has come to know.